


Moving Through Molasses

by PapayaK



Category: Psych
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, F/M, Family, Friendship, Mourning, Mystery, OFC - Freeform, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-02
Updated: 2015-03-12
Packaged: 2018-03-16 01:23:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3469190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PapayaK/pseuds/PapayaK
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Carlton Lassiter had a very bad feeling.<br/>It had been a quiet week at the SBPD - too quiet.  The only pleasant thing was that Spencer hadn’t been around to bother him. But now he had a truly horrible feeling in his gut.  He’d just gotten the call that a body had been discovered in a nearby park.  No ID had been found, but somehow - inexplicably - he had a feeling that it was Spencer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Discovery

 

A/N  
\---Here is the promised ‘rule-breaking’ story. Two of my personal (Not saying they need to be anyone else’s!) guidelines: 1. Don’t write OCs unless they are for the purpose of this story only ( _a la_ ‘guest star’ on the show); 2. Put the characters (pretty much) back the way you found them when you’re done.

Yeah, I kinda threw my rules out the window for this one. As I explained the first time I told my beta about this story: “I was in a bad mood one afternoon and I killed Shawn.” Yep you read right. This is my death-fic. I mostly write sci-fi, so every time _previously_ that I’ve killed someone, I could bring them back to life. Not this time. Sorry. (Sorta.)   (Okay, not really.)

\---My beta, DinerGuy, is _fantastic_. She is a grammar and punctuation ninja. She helps me keep everyone in character, and she helps the story make sense _outside_ my head. She also has excellent suggestions in word-smithing. She’s made of awesome.

\---If you don’t like death fics, please spare yourself and don’t read this.

\--Finally, to those of you who don’t like to know ahead of time whether it’s a death-fic or not, I apologize. In my defense, we kinda start with the ‘end’ so you wouldn’t have been in suspense for long anyway.

Enjoy…

 **oO0Oo**  
Moving Through Molasses  
oO0Oo

 **oO0Oo** _Chapter 1: Discovery_

Carlton Lassiter had a very bad feeling.

It had been a quiet week at the SBPD - too quiet. He and O’Hara had solved two cases. One was a string of electronics store robberies where a clerk had been killed. The other was a missing persons case that turned out to be a suicide. Poor guy’d lost his job, his wife had left him, and he’d driven up into the hills above Santa Barbara and shot himself. He’d even had the decency to leave a note.

The only pleasant thing about either case was that Spencer hadn’t been around to bother him. Guster was attending a pharmaceuticals conference in Seattle and the annoying man-child that O’Hara somehow loved had announced to the entire station that he was going along. He’d told them he hoped they (meaning Lassiter) would be able to get along without him for a few days. The head detective hadn’t minded the jab one bit since it meant that Spencer was leaving.

Carlton had been treated to four whole days without any psychic nonsense. He’d also appreciated the reprieve from the idiotic cooing noises Spencer caused his usually professional and capable partner to make. They’d solved their cases in peace.

But now he had a truly horrible feeling in his gut. He’d just gotten the call that a body had been discovered in a nearby park. No ID had been found, but somehow - inexplicably - he had a feeling that it was Spencer. Ridiculous, really… Spencer was off doing something stupid and immature in Seattle with his best friend. He certainly wasn’t dead. A simple phone call would confirm it, but there was no way Lassiter would give him the satisfaction of thinking he was worried about him.

Still, his bad feeling wouldn’t go away.

Maybe it was the way Spencer had looked at him the day he’d left with Gus. Or maybe it was the fact that just before the pain-in-the-rear left, he’d asked Lassiter to look after ‘Jules’ with just a hint too much seriousness in his voice. He’d known the fake psychic for too long not to suspect he was up to something. And now this…

When they arrived at the park, he asked O’Hara to interview the freaked-out dog walker who’d spotted the body while he did a preliminary of the scene. He couldn’t explain why he did it, and she frowned at him, puzzled because of the odd request, but she didn’t argue.

Carlton made his way to the bottom of the brush-filled ravine where a single uniform waited, making sure no one disturbed the scene until the proper authorities arrived. He nodded at the man and then looked at the still form lying crumpled, face-down in the mud. It looked sickeningly familiar. The hair was matted with leaves and mud, but it was the right color. The shirt seemed a familiar style, but he couldn’t be certain until he turned the man over.

He knew he shouldn’t disturb anything until photos were taken, but he also knew he couldn’t wait that long.

The thought occurred to him that this was just the kind of thing Spencer was always doing - throwing procedure out the window in order to get the facts he needed.

Growling at the uniform to prevent him from protesting, he bent down and laid a hand on the dead man’s shoulder. Taking a deep breath, he swallowed and lifted the body just enough to see the face.

Hazel eyes, wide and empty, stared at nothing. A mouth that should have been smirking at him was slightly open and marred by the detritus that covered the ravine floor. For once he wished his gut feelings weren’t quite so accurate. It was Spencer. Or, he corrected himself, it used to be.

He lowered the body to its previous position and clenched his fists. It was all he could do to resist a sudden and overwhelming urge to roll the man gently onto his back, clean the mud off his face, and arrange his limbs and features into more pleasant positions.

He straightened as a singular thought seized him: There was _no way_ he would allow O’Hara to see the man she loved like this.

The horrible feeling of dread that had sat in his gut all morning was now replaced by pure, unadulterated _fury_. Spencer was a good man, an honorable man, a talented detective and… he was a friend.

Carlton was surprised and baffled by his own thoughts, but they were true.

He really hoped that Spencer had somehow known how true they were.

The man didn’t deserve this. And Carlton silently swore that, _no matter what_ , his killer would be brought to justice.

Growling one last time at the uniform who was now completely perplexed, he scrambled up the steep bank to stop his partner before she arrived at the scene.

She met him as he neared the parking lot, still frowning at his odd behavior. “Carlton, what -”

“O’Hara.” His voice was rough with emotion. He stood in front of her and took hold of her left elbow. Silently, he made one last, valiant attempt to get his own feelings under control.

She looked up at him. Her partner wouldn't make direct eye contact with her, but at the same time he was somehow managing to look into her soul. “Carlton, I’ve seen dead bodies before.”

He closed his eyes briefly and when they opened she thought she detected wetness there. “Not like this,” he responded softly.

Her eyes narrowed as they looked into his. “Carlton…” Then she braced herself. “Is it someone we know?”

He just looked at her. If only it were that - if only it were some distant acquaintance. It would be sad, but it wouldn’t be _this_. It wouldn’t be utterly devastating. He had never understood it, but the pair had truly loved each other. He reached forward and took her other elbow.

She rested her hands on his forearms. “Carlton… tell me,” she whispered, her eyes now wide.

He shook his head slightly. “O’Hara…” He sighed. “Juliet…” Then he watched her, and it was like watching a car accident in slow motion.

First, realization slammed into her with a sickening thud, sending her spinning out of control. Then she ran into anger, which sent her skidding across denial, until she came to a rest in numbness. Sadness and loss shattered her, the splinters of a once happy life scattering around the two of them.

Carlton pulled her into his arms just in time. He had hoped she would simply sob into his shoulder as she had once before. It would have been easier. But no; she tried to run to the empty shell where love had once lived. He held her tighter as she struggled.

He knew, with her police training, she could have escaped from him, but instead she grabbed fistfuls of his coat and tugged angrily. “No! He’s in Seattle. He and Gus… He’s fine. He called me last night. Everything was fine. You’re wrong, Carlton! _You’re wrong!_ ” Tear-filled eyes looked up into his desperately, and her voice turned commanding. “Tell me you’re wrong, Carlton. Tell me it’s a mistake.” When he only met her gaze evenly, her voice softened. “Please, Carlton - tell me you’re not sure - _please_ …”

Then CSU arrived and prepared to process the scene.

“O’Hara.” He tried to reach her. He wanted to spare her the embarrassment of being seen completely out of control.

She managed to gain some semblance of restraint, although Carlton, still holding her arm, could feel her trembling. “I want to see him.”

Carlton was impressed with the firmness of her voice, but then again, the strength his partner possessed should have stopped surprising him long ago.

Before he could respond, Woody strolled by, prepared to play his usual part in a murder scene.

“Woody!” she called to him, and Carlton was again impressed with his partner, with her level of empathy, that even at this moment, she thought to protect someone else’s feelings.

The coroner paused and turned towards them in surprise.

“Tell him,” O’Hara whispered. Shoulders drooping, her arms dropped limply to her sides.

Lassiter reluctantly released her and walked over. He leaned in and shared the victim’s identity quietly. Woody started and looked at the detective sharply for a moment. Something in his expression shifted almost imperceptibly, and then he nodded. He looked over at Juliet. After considering for a moment, he set down his body bag and walked over to her.

At first, she ignored him. Having been released by her partner, she started to walk past them, her steps firm and sure. Lassiter grabbed her arm, gently but firmly, again. He shot a look at the coroner but spoke to her. “Let Strode see him first, O’Hara. Trust me.”

She shook her head furiously. “I…”

Woody stopped her with a gesture. He waved a hand toward two large rocks that kept vehicles from driving onto the path. “Please, Juliet,” he invited her to sit.

Frowning in pain but too numb to argue, she sat and looked at the odd coroner.

“Juliet,” he began softly, sitting down with her as if they were in her living room. “Death and I are old friends. We’ve known each other for a very long time, and we understand each other. Kinda like you and Shawn do… did… You know?”

She stared at him, but did not respond.

“Everybody meets death sooner or later.” He said it as if it was a commonplace occurrence and, of course, to him it was. “And it’s my job to find out how they met and help them get acquainted. It’s what I do, and I’m very good at it.” He leaned closer to her. “I know that Shawn would appreciate it if you let me help him with that before you saw him. Do you understand, Juliet?”

Carlton stared at the coroner. No wonder he and the psychic were friends. They both had the oddest quality of being completely idiotic most of the time, but incredibly, _unbelievably_ wise, intelligent, and gentle when the situation called for it. A stab of sadness cut through him as he realized he was really going to miss Spencer.

“Okay,” O’Hara whispered.

Woody nodded at her and patted her knee. Then he walked down the path towards the body of a man he had greatly liked and admired, one of his few true friends.   He understood Death… but he didn’t always agree with Death. Shawn Spencer had been taken far too soon.

oO0Oo  
 **TBC…**  
oO0Oo

Please leave a note and let me know what you think so far.

 


	2. Knowing

This chapter is dedicated to _Magic-Amethyst80_ who asked so nicely and promised me a lovely gift in return. :-D

oOo

_“I am proud, honored, and…_ baffled _to call you my friend. But it’s true.” – Part of Shawn’s goodbye to Lassie in ‘The Break-up.’_

“Spencer was a good man, an honorable man, a talented detective and… he was a friend. Carlton was surprised and baffled by his own thoughts, but they were true. He really hoped that Spencer had somehow known how true they were.” – ‘Moving Through Molasses’

*Hands out virtual cookies to anyone who caught the similarity.* (It was my way of telling Carlton that Shawn knew.)

oOo

Thanks for sticking with me.

*Hands out tissues sheepishly.*

Here’s chapter two – in which everyone else finds out.

 

**oO0Oo** - _Chapter 2: Knowing_

Several miserable hours later, Lassiter and O’Hara arrived back at the station. Shawn was now in the basement with Woody.

The normally raucous station continued on with criminals being processed and the general business of a well-oiled machine, but it seemed now to be muted. Every member of the force seemed to move with a little more restraint, a little more respect. Many of them moved with genuine despondency. Buzz had gently cleared the immediate area around their desks of any active cases. And while the criminals continued their discordance, the building itself seemed solemn, as if every brick felt the emptiness.

Juliet sat rather heavily in her desk chair and proceeded to stare at nothing. Too many questions. Not enough answers. There weren’t _any_ answers. Of course the question of ‘Who killed Shawn?’ was at the top of her list but so was ‘How do I get out of bed tomorrow?’ ‘How do I survive the next week? Or the next month?’ This morning she’d had a full and beautiful life laid out in front of her. Now there was just nothing. A desert. A wasteland. An emptiness.

Carlton watched her, trying to think of something to say and knowing full well there was nothing.

Vick came out of her office, her eyes suspiciously red, and walked up to him. “I understand Mr. Guster is out of town. Has anyone told Shawn’s father?”

Carlton developed an intense interest in his shoes. “No.”

“I’ll do it,” she said in a soft voice. “You and Detective O’Hara will figure out a way to tell Gus. Is she up to it?”

Lassiter glanced over at his partner. “Yes,” he said with more firmness than he felt.

oO0Oo

Vick sat in her car for a moment, regarding the door of the familiar red and white house.

She sighed, got out, and walked slowly up to the door. No matter what they tried to teach you, there was no good way to do this. There was only bad and worse.

How do you tell a man his only son is never coming home?

When Henry opened the door, he knew something was up, just from her presence on his porch, as she expected he would. Searching each other’s eyes, neither person said anything, until a quiet, “No,” escaped Henry’s lips.

Karen responded, “I’m sorry, Henry. Shawn was shot and killed sometime last night. We don’t know _yet_ , why or by whom, but I swear to you, we will do everything humanly possible to find out. He was one of our own.”

Henry stared at her, unmoving except for the muscles in his jaw as he worked to get himself under control.

Then he turned his back and walked away from her into the house.

She stood and watched him disappear down a hallway. She pursed her lips. Then she bit the lower one - hard. She wasn’t going to cry again. Not here. Not now. She let herself quietly into the house and sat on the edge of one of the chairs.

She would give Henry all the time he needed to be alone. But at the same time, she would not allow him to _be_ alone. She would stay and wait patiently. She knew that he would be back soon, demanding answers, demanding to be part of the investigation. But at the moment - _this_ moment - the one no parent should ever have to experience…

She was prepared to give him all the time he needed, while remaining present just in case.

In true Spencer form, it didn’t take long. In a few minutes he was back, his jacket in his hand. He moved slightly slower. His usually straight back was bent as if under a heavy load. His eyes, normally filled with a vigor that belied his age, now affirmed his years and then some. In those few minutes, it seemed he had aged ten years.

Not even pausing, he walked past her, going out to her car. “Yes. _We_ will,” was all he said and then he was buckling himself into her front seat.

She stood watching him regretfully. She thought of Iris, and she simply _could not_ imagine what this moment was like for him.

Lowering her eyes out of respect, she walked to the car, got in, and drove them back to the station in silence.

oO0Oo

“When’s he coming back?” Juliet’s small, quiet voice asked, as she desperately tried to gather her scattered thoughts.

“Tomorrow. You said he had an early flight?” Carlton reminded her.

She tried to smile. “That’s right. I was supposed to pick them up. Shawn was mad that he had to get up early…” She paused, caught in the memory, her mind obviously a million miles away. Lassiter hesitated to interrupt.

Juliet shifted through some papers on her desk without seeing them. A lock of hair escaped from her normally tidy bun and slid into her eyes. She didn’t move to replace it. “Should we call him now? Or wait…? It seems like something he should hear in person, but…”

“We call him,” Lassiter responded firmly. “He should know. Now. Not when it’s convenient… This is never convenient.”

Juliet nodded, picked up the phone that had been quietly waiting in the center of her blotter, and pulled up Gus’ number with a trembling finger. She stared at it for a long time.

“O’Hara? Would you like me to do it?” her partner offered gently.

“Um…” She frowned and cleared her throat. “No.” Her finger hovered over ‘send.’ “I was just thinking about the two of them… All those years…”

“Yeah,” was Carlton’s quiet reply.

“All those years of practically being two halves of the same person… to lose that… I can’t imagine…” But there was nothing to say to that. Juliet pressed send and put the phone to her ear.

Gus surprised her by answering with the words, “Something bad happened to Shawn, didn’t it?”

Juliet gasped, swallowed, opened her mouth, closed it again.

“Oh my goodness! I knew it! How bad is it? Is he in the hospital?”

“Gus,” Juliet managed in a whisper. “He’s - He’s gone, Gus.” Her free hand grasped the edge of her desk and held on tightly. “We’ve lost him… I’m so, _so_ sorry.”

There was a long silence. Juliet waited a full minute before speaking. Now that the words were out, her voice was marginally steadier. “Gus? Are you there?”

She imagined him trying to gain enough control of his emotions to speak.

“He… he is?” His voice shook so badly she strained to even make out the words. “Are you sure…? Of course you’re sure. You wouldn’t call me and tell me that Shawn was dead if you weren’t completely, absolutely, positively certain… Would you, Juliet? Of course you wouldn’t.” There was another long pause, but his voice gained strength as he continued. “I thought… I knew something _bad_ had happened, but I wasn’t… He didn’t…” Juliet waited patiently once again, until… “ _Juliet_!” Gus exclaimed. “Are _you_ okay? My goodness! I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“Gus!” was all Juliet could force out, but the line was dead. She put her phone down and looked at her partner who sat next to her, his elbows on his knees as he leaned forward solicitously.

He grimaced. “He’ll be here in a few hours.”

Juliet tried to call Gus back, but she couldn’t get through.

oO0Oo

She couldn’t get through because Gus was calling to change his plane ticket.

He succeeded, and all five of them were in the SBPD only a few hours later.

While they waited for Gus to arrive, those officially involved in police work were sorting through what little they had found at the scene. Cold, fact-filled, preliminary reports said things like, ‘the victim was killed by an apparent GSW to the chest, approximately between 10pm and midnight. He was most likely killed elsewhere and the body dumped.’

Autopsy would confirm the details.

They were no closer to finding Shawn’s killer when Gus finally arrived, still shaking. When he came within sight of them he just stopped. He wouldn’t make eye contact with anyone. Juliet immediately went to him and took him in her arms. They hugged for a long time. They both needed the warmth and strength afforded by the physical contact. Finally, they parted and came to join the group.

All five of them looked as if they hadn’t slept in days. They looked shell-shocked and in pain, and some of them looked simply lost. But together they were trying to piece together Shawn’s last days.

Unfortunately, there was little to go on.

Everyone in Santa Barbara, including Henry and Juliet, had thought Shawn was with Gus. Gus shared that Shawn had bailed on their trip at the last minute, claiming he had to run home and TiVo something. When Gus had pointed out the futility of his plan, he’d sworn he would be back in time to make the flight.

He hadn’t made it.

Gus, used to Shawn’s erratic behavior and with obligations to fill in Seattle, had sucked his teeth, rolled his eyes, and gone ahead without him.

“If I had known…” Gus almost whispered.

Several voices jumped in to protest the lie of that thought, but Henry’s won through. “Gus, _none of us_ had _any_ idea of what he was doing. He didn’t _forget_ to TiVo anything, and you know it. He was up to something, and he wanted us to know nothing about it. Shawn can be very good at keeping secrets when he wants to be. You and I know that better than anyone. He left you like that on purpose. _And you know it,_ ” he repeated for emphasis.

Gus nodded his acceptance of Henry’s words, but it didn’t make him feel any better.

Then Lassiter’s phone rang, and he picked it up, annoyed. “What?”

The rest of the group saw his eyes widen and then narrow as he listened. He was only on the phone a moment before he hung up and looked at them all, speechless for a moment. Then he choked out, “Woody has something for us.”

Everyone immediately stood and made their way towards the stairs, except Gus. They all paused. Juliet backtracked to put a hand on his arm. “Gus?”

“Is he down there?” Gus asked timidly.

Juliet sat back down and rolled her chair to face his. Lassiter came up behind her protectively. “Yes, Gus. He is.” She wiped tears from her eyes and cleared her throat. “I’ve been wanting to go see him, but I haven’t had the opportunity… or the courage…” she admitted. “Would you help me?” She grasped his right hand with her left. “Please?”

He looked at her hand in his for a long time, but then nodded silently, stood, and allowed himself to be pulled along.

**oO0Oo**  
TBC…   
oO0Oo


	3. Learning

_Finally_ – we get _some_ answers…

 

**oO0Oo** _Chapter 3: Learning_

When the five of them arrived in the morgue, Woody greeted them far too cheerfully. In Woody’s mind, he had guests - and now he had a co-host! He had forgotten for the moment that his co-host, his buddy, was recently deceased.

He didn’t _usually_ forget that his co-hosts were deceased… But in his defense, the departed didn’t usually _speak_. And Shawn _was_!

Shawn had a message for his friends.

Once they were all there, Woody smiled at them and began. “Shawn. Is. Amazing. I know you all knew that, but it’s even truer than I had guessed. He was a _really_ healthy fellow! His heart and lungs are practically textbook - well, except for the damage done by the bullet, of course.” He chuckled. Noting that his guests were not as enthused by his announcement as he had hoped, he got down to business. “But that’s not why I called you here…”

Vick and Lassiter tried - very hard - to concentrate on what the coroner was saying, but Henry, Gus, and Juliet had eyes only for Shawn.

It was a truly sad sight if any outsider could have looked in. These people had stood in this room, surrounding a dead body, many, many times before. It was an extremely familiar act, except now it was utterly wrong.

Now one of their number was occupying the wrong position. He should have been standing with them, astutely piecing together information, cleverly gathering clues and just generally filling the room with life. But he wasn’t.

Shawn’s body lay on the cold metal table. He was covered by a sheet up to his shoulders; only his unscathed neck and head could be seen, although the very tip of the autopsy incision was just visible near his throat.

Lassiter was thankful to note that all the dirt and mud - aka ‘trace evidence’ - had been cleaned meticulously away, and the man before them appeared to be simply asleep.

If his partner had to see her dead boyfriend, it should be like this - not how Carlton had seen him in the forest. That sight, seared into his brain, would haunt his nightmares for a long time to come.

But Woody was still talking.

“It’s the craziest thing! As I was examining the contents of his stomach… definite pineapple in there, by the way…” Why he thought anyone would find that the _least_ bit amusing was a mystery. “I found something surprising.” He looked around at them excitedly. “It was a balloon!” When he got no reaction, he frowned. Were these people even paying attention?   “A balloon like drug mules use…” Some of them seemed to be listening, others seemed far away. “Only Shawn’s didn’t contain drugs, of course, that would be _ridiculous_ \- unless he -”

“WOODY!” came at least three voices in chorus.

Woody jumped, caught in his own act of mental wandering. “Oh! Right! Shawn’s balloon had a thumb drive in it…” Noticing the blank looks, (at least he had their full attention now) he clarified, “He swallowed a thumb drive. He put it in a balloon to protect it from stomach acid…” At this he turned to go to the computer on the counter behind him. “Technically the message is for me… but he kept telling me to tell you things and it got hard to keep track so I -”

“Show us!” Chief Vick finally commanded.

“O… kay.” Woody responded. “No need to yell.”

He walked around Shawn calmly and put his finger on the appropriate key. “I give you… Shawn Spencer.” And bowing, he pressed ‘play.’

The screen was black for a moment. The room held its breath. Juliet managed to tear her gaze from Shawn’s still features and looked toward the screen.

Then Shawn appeared as big as life, and began to speak. “Hey! Woody! Woodman! Woodster! Good to see ya! Well, I guess, not so good since if you’re seeing this, then you cut it out of my stomach because I’m dead.” Then, being Shawn, he laughed. “But I won’t hold that against you. In fact, could you do me a favor?”

And so began the legacy of Shawn Spencer, murdered fake-psychic detective. While his body lay cool on the autopsy table, his video played for his mourners.

“Okay, Woody, turns out I _might_ not have a lot of time here so I’m ‘sending’ this to you.” He laughed nervously and glanced at the windows of the Psych office.

“Please thank my dad for teaching me to plan for contin - contan - kintan - contingencies… I really have heard things all those different ways, you know…? Tell Gus, would ya? When you remember _everything_ everyone has said to you… Well… A lot of people pronounce things wrong, okay? I _really have_ heard it both ways… Tell him to pick the correct pronunciation, and let’s get on with this!

“Okay. so, if you’re seeing this, I’m dead. What do you need to know? Number one? _PROTECT HER!_ Sorry - can’t stress that one enough since _that’s_ the reason I’m dead. Oh - don’t tell _her_ that, though, okay? Don’t ever tell her I’m dead ‘cause of her. I’m not dead _because_ of _anyone…_ anyone but the guy who actually killed me _…_ Tell Jules… Oh… Um…” Suddenly he was meticulously examining his fingernails.

“Tell Jules I’m sorry. _Try_ to tell her just how much I loved her? _Try_ to tell her…”

And then the now-deceased man, who had been sitting in the Psych office fidgeting and looking nervous, suddenly became serious and looked straight into the lens. “Tell Juliet that I loved her. Okay? Way, _way_ more than I could ever say… And Gus, too. I mean - he knows - just like my dad knows - but this is serious, you know?”

Shawn, on the monitor, glanced out the windows of the office again, obviously too busy to notice if he had repeated himself. There seemed to be something outside that worried him.

“Forget it. I don’t have time. If this is it… it’s good. It’s okay. If I die tonight, I died doing the right thing. Tell my dad that, okay? Funny part is, if I _don’t_ die, I’ll be pooping this out in a couple days…” Shawn, on screen, chuckled. “‘nuff said…”

The man in the video clearly thought this was both highly unlikely and highly amusing. Then he looked at the camera seriously again.

“Woody - please. You’re my man. Please tell them all - including Lassie and Vick - that I loved them. Okay? And _protect her.”_ He looked again at the windows, but this time, he became visibly agitated. “Okay, I’m out of time…” He began to speak more quickly. “Tell them they’ll find what they need. My notes. It’s all in there. They’ll find them because they know me. Tell Gus _third grade_ …” He stood and came too close for the camera to focus as he moved to eject the drive. “Gotta go. Bye.”

There was the sound of static for a long time.

Woody stood silently, respectfully, off to the side, prepared to wait for as long as necessary.

Henry recovered first. He turned and looked at his son. “Shawn…” And then he stopped.

As one, the rest turned and gazed at the body of the man who had made such an immeasurable difference in their lives.

But Shawn had given them a mystery to solve. Not just the mystery of who had taken his life, but something that would take them beyond their pain, beyond dark thoughts of revenge. One last time, Shawn distracted them from something horrible in order to do something good.

Who was ‘her’? Who did Shawn want them to protect?

The team braced themselves against their coming task and got to work.

Chief Vick took charge. “Detectives, this is your only case until further notice. Make use of any resources you need. They are already approved.” She chewed the inside of her cheek as she looked at them. “Find out who did this and bring him to justice.”

Lassiter cleared his throat. “Okay, people, if we’re going to find out who he wants us to protect, we have to find those notes he mentioned. Guster, do you have any idea what he meant by ‘third grade’?”

Gus, who had been frowning in concentration the whole time, shook his head. “I can’t remember any notes or anything we hid in the third grade.” His eyes continued to travel through the past without seeing the present. Then he had an idea. “My mom kept a box of stuff from grade school in her attic… I could stop by there and see if I can figure out what Shawn was talking about.”

“Good,” Lassiter said encouragingly. He knew that they all needed something on which to focus, something to fill their minds and distract them from the devastating loss. “Henry, any ideas?”

Henry, too, had been thinking hard. “Shawn’s got so many hiding places; I never found them all. But what if we look at this from another angle? He was protecting someone - someone female. What if he had her hidden away in some kind of safe house? We find the girl, we get some answers. Maybe she’d know who did this.”

Juliet nodded. “Where would he keep her?”

Gus met Henry’s eyes and spoke softly. “Where he always took anyone who needed to feel safe and protected… It’s where _he_ felt safe and protected.”

“Gus… that can’t be. I would know,” Henry protested the suggestion that a woman was hiding in his house.

Gus raised an eyebrow. “Would you? I stayed there for a few days in high school, the summer after sophomore year. My Aunt Ruth was visiting, and she always pinched my cheeks…”

Henry stared at him. “Where?”

“In his room, mostly in his closet. Shawn smuggled in food.” Then he gave a small smile. “It was fun.”

Henry nodded reluctantly. Shawn was definitely good at secrets. “Okay. I’ll check.”

“O’Hara and I will hit their office. See what we can find there.” Lassiter turned to Gus. “Any hiding places I should know about, Guster?”

Gus raised his eyebrows and just looked at him for a couple seconds. Where did he start? “Um… the slot in the fridge door, the false bottom of his top right desk drawer, the underside of _every_ drawer, under the floorboards in the kitchen, the stuffed bear on the shelf has a zipper pocket in the back, the copy of Moby Dick is fake, you get the idea… Plus I am sure there are a few he’s never shared with me.”

“Why on earth would he have all those hiding places?” Lassiter asked finally, while Juliet wondered if she had ever really known her boyfriend.

Gus shrugged. “Once in a while he’d have some photos of a cheating spouse he’d put in there - that kind of stuff. Mostly he hid stuff just because he could, because it was fun. Or to annoy me.” And he smiled slightly at the memory.

Lassiter looked at his partner. “Looks like we’ve got our work cut out for us.”

She nodded then paused and turned back to Gus. She asked, “Did he hide things in our home?”

Gus grimaced as he considered. “I would be surprised if he did. He never lived in any one place for long, so he didn’t usually think of his own living space as secure. But with you, it was different. I don’t know.”

Juliet nodded her understanding, set her shoulders, and continued to focus on the case and _not_ on the body beside her. She would break down later, when she was alone in their empty home, surrounded by Shawn’s things… his scent… his absence.

With one last gaze at his son’s body, Henry turned and walked out. He held his body stiff, as if he could shatter at any moment.

“I think I’ll accompany you,” Vick murmured, moving to follow him. But he surprised her by stopping in the hallway as soon as the doors closed behind them. His eyes closed, he leaned against the wall as if his legs had failed as soon as he was out of sight of the others.

Realizing he hadn’t heard her and didn’t know she was there, she fell silent. She waited, trying to give him his privacy as, keeping one hand on the wall, he turned and stumbled around a corner, just out of sight.

The two detectives also turned to leave, but Juliet stopped and walked back to Gus who was still standing, looking down at Shawn.

“Is this the last time I’m going to see him?” Gus asked softly.

Juliet put an arm around him and rested her head on his shoulder. She had to just breathe for a while before she could answer. Every fiber of her being wanted to throw herself over the still form and wail at the universe how horribly unfair this was. Finally she swallowed and told Gus what was in her heart. “No. This isn’t the last time. I promise. It can’t be. We can’t think about…” She stopped to swallow a few times, sniffed, wiped her eyes and tried again. “We can’t _think_ right now, Gus. We have to act. We have to solve this puzzle - for Shawn. When we do… then we’ll think. Then we’ll say goodbye. Not now. Not yet. I _can’t_. I… I’m not ready.” She didn’t mention that she would _never_ be ready.

Gus nodded then, wiping at his own eyes, and the two of them turned their backs on Shawn and left. Lassiter followed them out, pausing momentarily to frown at Vick, who stood quietly in the hall for no apparent reason. But she only nodded firmly at him, her eyes bright, and he continued after his partner.

Once the footsteps had receded, Henry reappeared. He came up short when he saw Karen waiting. He’d been staring at his feet and hadn’t noticed her. “Karen,” he said simply, his voice low and rough.

She only nodded and reached to open the door for him. Henry needed a moment with his son. Alone. She understood that and waited just outside the door. She wasn’t going anywhere. There was no way she would let him investigate any of this by himself.

Woody had disappeared somewhere, so Henry was alone when he spoke. Taking a deep breath, he laid a gentle hand on Shawn’s head. “Kid, you’re an idiot. For the last -” He paused a moment to regain control. “For the last time, you’re an idiot. What were you thinking? Let me guess, you didn’t mean for this to happen, right?” He shifted his hand, ruffling his son’s hair as he had done so many times before. “Why didn’t you call me? You asked me for help so many times. Why not this time? I could have…” He paused and looked up at the ceiling for a beat, blinking. “Maybe I could have…” He shook his head and looked down again, solemnly accepting the burden that he would carry to his own grave: He hadn’t been there to save his son.

When he spoke again, his voice was heavy with emotion. “What am I supposed to do now, Shawn?” The question came out nearly in a whisper. “What am I supposed to do? What am I going to tell your mother?” His other hand reached under the sheet and took hold of Shawn’s. “I can’t fix this, kid. I can’t help you. I can’t… I’m _supposed_ to help you, to teach you, whether you want me to or not… Because I love you, Shawn! And I… I can’t…” And then he fell silent.

Karen, who had been watching through the small window in the door, looked away when his shoulders began to tremble as he wept silent tears.

Finally she entered and put a hand on his shoulder. He took one deep, shuddering breath as she spoke. “Let’s go find this girl Shawn was worried about. We’ll help him finish what he started. And we’ll find whoever did this.”

 **oO0Oo**  
TBC…   
oO0Oo

Okay, so I admit the ‘answers’ just raised more questions… But hey, at least this chapter is WAY longer than the first two.

Next chapter will be up on Monday. (Although I’ve been known to post sooner with the right motivation… ;-D)

 


	4. The Beginnings of Acceptance

<3 I just want to take a moment to thank _profusely_ all those who have reviewed. I have every intention of responding to each of you, but the nature of the story makes it difficult. I think we would mostly be handing each other virtual tissues. :’-) I spend a ridiculous amount of time refreshing my browser. Is there a new review? Is there a new review? You all make me giddy when you make that little icon change. _I thank you from the bottom of my heart._ <3

Hey – It’s still Monday! Look at that! I really hope this meets expectations…

_Chapter 4 – in which we finally meet ‘her.’_

**oO0Oo** _Chapter 4: The Beginnings of Acceptance_

When Gus arrived at his parent’s house, he explained to the two of them why he was there. His mother surprised him by breaking down in tears. It seemed to Gus that his parents had always gone back and forth about whether or not they liked Shawn. At times, they had treated him like a second son, but at others, they were suspicious and cold and called him a ‘bad influence.’ He was never quite sure where they stood with his best friend. But they were both terribly upset to hear of his passing.

Gus left his mom in his dad’s arms and went woodenly up the stairs to the attic. Finding the boxes clearly labelled, ‘Burton - McKinley - K-6,’ he pulled up a dusty stool and sat down.

Before he opened the boxes, he sat for a moment in thought. It surprised him that he had yet to really shed a tear. It was so unlike him. He’d known that Shawn was gone for almost twenty-four hours now, and he only felt numb. He supposed that was normal, but it didn’t seem right. Then he remembered what Juliet had told him about acting and not thinking and realized she was right. They needed to solve this case. They needed to protect whoever this girl was and find out who killed Shawn. _Then_ he would allow himself to feel.

He pulled the first box closer and opened its flaps. The stack of papers lying on top of the rest of the memorabilia would not help him figure out what Shawn had meant when he’d said ‘tell Gus third grade.’ It was only a bunch of report cards. His kindergarten report sat right on top, bound to the others with a rubber band. He was about to set them to the side when he noticed something. It was in the teacher’s comments section: “Burton is a very bright student, very eager to learn. He and Shawn need to work on listening during class time.”

Gus stared at the words. Shawn. Kindergarten. Best friends from day one.

Quickly, he paged through the rest of the reports, and every single one had some mention of Shawn. He set them to the side and began pulling other mementos from the box. So many of the items contained Shawn’s name, or his writing, or a doodle he’d made in the margin of Gus’s otherwise tidy work.

Those that did not actually carry his mark reminded Gus of him. The dinosaur project about which Shawn had teased him; the creative writing assignment he’d written based on one of Shawn’s wild stories (he’d gotten an ‘A’ for originality). He remembered the two of them giggling hysterically as they brainstormed ideas for their first ‘research’ report. He’d written his on alien sightings. Shawn had written his on burps.

One after another, Gus pulled memories from the box until it was empty. Then he stared into the emptiness and marveled at how it was an analogy for his life. When you took out everything that Shawn had touched, there was nothing left.

His life sat empty before him now that Shawn was gone.

Sitting in his parent’s attic, on a dusty, three-legged stool, Gus put his face in his hands and wept.

oO0Oo

Lassiter and O’Hara had just spent over an hour searching all the hiding places Gus had suggested, plus found a few more. They didn’t find anything that helped with the case, but Juliet was beginning to wonder if she had ever really known her boyfriend. Actually, at the moment, she was wondering if _anyone_ truly _knew_ Shawn Spencer.

Many of the hiding places had been empty, but others hadn’t been. One held comic books, a few of which looked very old but were in excellent condition. They were hidden with a note that said “retirement fund.”

Another held a stack of papers, all related to her. There were photos of her and of the two of them together. There were notes she had written to him, and the postcards she’d sent him from Florida when she’d gone home for a visit last Christmas. She was surprised to see sketches of herself, apparently done by Shawn. They were quite good. She’d never known he could draw. At the very bottom she found a flattened, wrinkled straw wrapper, and she gasped.

_“I was sitting right there three minutes ago, and then I went outside to get myself a paper. I ordered the juice, and look_ \- _I made a crawling snake with the straw wrapper. You can finish it if you think you’re up to the job…”_

Was it possible this was _that_ straw wrapper? Was it possible Shawn had kept it as a memento of their first meeting? She felt her tenuous control begin to crumble. Had he really cared for her even then?

Her partner rescued her. He’d found the cubby under the kitchen floorboards. He called her over, and she sniffed, wiped her eyes, and joined him, kneeling down near the hole in the floor. This hidden compartment was filled with small sculptures, apparently made out of used chewing gum. Juliet had to smile because this one also held a note that said “retirement fund.”

Underneath those was a stack of well-handled notes. They were the equivalent of fan mail: commendations from the police, a few actual letters from people Psych had helped over the years. Tucked between two newspaper clippings was a note from his dad. From the condition of the paper, it looked to be many years old. It had been torn from a larger sheet of paper and it simply read, “Nice job.”

Continuing her search, she found a large box of ‘rat poison’ stuffed in the recesses under the sink. It turned out to be a clever hiding place for a bundle of correspondence from people Juliet had never heard Shawn mention. The return addresses were from all over the country, and a few were international. They must be people he’d met on his travels. She vowed to spend time going over those in detail and contacting every one of Shawn’s friends to let them know he was gone.

In the same box were documents from different schools, colleges and universities. They were evidence that Shawn had taken a few classes during his travels, some audited, some for credit, but there was everything from archaeology to zoology. She shook her head in amazement.

While she was studying those, Lassiter was going through the items stacked haphazardly next to the TV. He knocked over some childish handheld game, and when he picked it up to put it back, it rattled. Concerned he’d broken it, he inspected it more closely… and that was when he found the ring.

Glancing at O’Hara, who was still engrossed in the box she’d found under the sink, he turned it over in the palm of his hand. It glinted in the light. Should he show it to her? Should he let her know that her boyfriend had at least considered proposing marriage? Would it only cause unnecessary pain?

This was no time for lies and secrets. “O’Hara,” he said softly.

She got up and came over to see what he had discovered. Having placed the ring back into its hiding place, he tilted the game to give her a view.

She froze, staring. She didn’t even breathe. Finally she whispered, “Oh, Shawn…” and gently reached for the elegant piece. Turning it slowly, she was mesmerized as it caught the light and sparkled. Suddenly, she closed the ring in her fist, ran to the bathroom, and slammed the door behind her. Lassiter heard the soft sobs and closed his eyes.

A moment later, he took a deep breath, set the game down gently, and continued his search.

Ten minutes later, O’Hara emerged. Carlton looked at her in concern, but steely eyed, she only nodded at him. After returning the ring to its hiding place, she continued to search.

Finally they paused, realizing this task was far more daunting than they had expected.

Lassiter looked at her and shook his head in wonder. “I never really knew him.” Glancing around the office, he amended, “I never took the time to try -”

Before she could respond, they were interrupted by the ringing of his phone. He put it to his ear. “Lassiter.”

He listened for a moment, then lowered the phone and said, “We need to get over to Spencer’s.”

oO0Oo

A long time later, Gus came back down the stairs. His parents were there waiting for him.

“Gus, honey, how are you doing?” his mother asked gently.

Gus sniffed and nodded, his eyes still red. “I’m okay, Mom. I should go.”

“Your phone rang while you were upstairs,” she told him.

Gus raised his eyebrows at that. He hadn’t realized he’d put it on the table in the foyer with his keys. He should have had it with him in case one of the others discovered something.

But his mom was still talking. “It was the police chief. She wanted to talk to you, but I didn’t want to disturb you. I told her you’d call her as soon as you could.”

Gus went to his phone immediately and dialed.

His mom was still talking, miffed at Chief Vick’s attitude. “She was very insistent. She should be more sensitive, considering.”

But then the Chief answered. “Mr. Guster, could you please come to the Spencer home as soon as possible?”

“I’ll be right there, Chief.” And Gus was gone.

oO0Oo

Karen and Henry were silent on the drive over from the station. Karen drove, and Henry stared out the window. The only sign of his distress was how he would occasionally run a hand over his face or scalp.

Before they’d left the precinct, he’d tried to call Maddie. Not surprisingly, she hadn’t answered. When the call went to voicemail, he froze. You cannot leave that kind of information in a message, so he’d just asked her to call him. Unfortunately, he knew from experience that, depending on her schedule, it could be days before she would return his call. He resolved to keep trying until he was able to reach her.

He finally spoke when they had nearly reached his house. “What’d he get himself into, Karen? Why couldn’t he tell us? Why didn’t he tell _me_?”

Karen thought for a moment before answering. “Your son was many things, Henry, including an amazing detective. One thing he was _not_ was stupid. You _know_ he believed he had a good reason for not speaking. I suspect it was to protect us. Shawn wanted to keep all of us safe.” But then they were pulling into the driveway and Henry was out of the car.

Was it possible that someone was hiding in his house? He proceeded to check all the places he’d considered on the drive over. There was no way the girl was in Shawn’s closet. It was a roomy closet, but not for almost a week, so he started in the garage. Then he checked the garage attic, but everything was as he’d left it.

They had a crawl space under the house, and he knew Shawn had occasionally hidden there as a child. It was quite low and dirty to boot, but Henry checked it anyway, Karen following behind.

After a quick glance through every room in the house, closets included, he headed up to the attic. He had almost dismissed it as a possibility because his own bedroom was directly under the main portion of the attic and he highly doubted anyone could move about up there without him knowing.

When they first entered, everything looked perfectly normal. It certainly looked like a typical attic to Karen. But Henry’s keen gaze quickly began to pick out a few oddities. The first was the moving blankets. Not really out of place in an attic, it was unusual for them to be spread all over the floor. Usually they were folded and stacked neatly under the window. Henry suspected Shawn had put them there to cushion any footfalls.

Then Henry noticed something else. He held up a hand to send a message of caution and quiet to Karen and began to silently move forward. As he had scanned the room, a small smirk had caught his lips. His son was good. The boxes at the far end of the attic looked to be stacked against the wall just as they had been for years. Not even the dust had been disturbed. But the entire wall of cartons had been shifted away from the wall a few feet, enough to create a tiny, invisible room behind them.

And of course, that section of the attic was above Shawn’s old room, a place Henry rarely went.

He moved to the edge of the stack, where he knew the ‘doorway’ had to be. Then he stepped around the corner.

What he saw was a cozy little nook. A foam pad covered with blankets, pillows, and stuffed animals made a nice bed. There was a small box with a lamp on it, and several of Shawn’s old books and a few of his electronic games that still worked were scattered about.

Most importantly, he saw the girl. She was a young thing, about ten or eleven, blond and pretty. Sitting in the corner, she was dressed in jeans and one of Shawn’s old sweatshirts, and she was totally, absolutely terrified.

Henry instantly relaxed and went into non-threatening-dad mode. He knelt to be more at her level, and spoke soothingly. “Hey, it’s okay. I’m Shawn’s dad. I’m your friend, and no one is going to hurt you.” He put out a hand to her.

For a moment, she seemed to relax. Her eyes glanced over at one of the boxes, and Henry saw that photos of himself, Gus, Juliet, Lassiter, and even Karen were taped there. Smiley faces were drawn on the cardboard boxes above the pictures, except Juliet’s, which had smiles, hearts, and curlicues surrounding it. It was Shawn’s way of reminding her who the friendlies were - just in case.

She had just started to move toward him when Karen appeared behind him. Instantly she shrank back into the mattress, grabbing a pillow and hugging it to her she made little gasping noises. Karen immediately backed off, knowing she had frightened the girl, but she didn’t leave. She just gave her gentlest smile and waited quietly for Henry to continue.

“That’s Karen. She’s my friend and Shawn’s, too. See the picture?” He gestured, and the girl followed his direction, relaxing slightly once she had connected the person with the photo. “She won’t hurt you either, okay?” Henry frowned slightly when the girl still didn’t say anything. She was watching his face very closely as he spoke. Slowly, she lowered the pillow, but she still didn’t move.

That was when he realized: she wasn’t watching his face, she was watching his lips. He murmured over his shoulder, “Karen, I think she’s deaf.”

He frowned at the floor for a moment, trying to remember what little sign language he had picked up over the years. Then he looked up at her and, over-emphasizing his enunciation to help her lip-reading, he said, and tried to sign, _“I’m Shawn’s dad. I won’t hurt you.”_

Then the girl giggled because, while she had caught the gist of what Henry was trying to say, what he had signed was, _“I’m Shavr father. I no tired you.”_

Henry chuckled, realizing he must have botched his message horribly, and once again held out his hand to her. Then she threw herself into his arms and clung tightly.

Henry just held her. Belatedly, he wondered who was getting more comfort from the act - the (probably) fatherless girl, or the now son-less father.

Karen stepped away and took out her phone.

**oO0Oo**  
TBC…   
oO0Oo

_*ducks head and waves tissues in surrender*_

I will just warn you – the first half of the next chapter is, imho, the most bitter-sweet. It was the saddest part for me to write.

 


	5. Getting Acquainted

I HATE it when a story’s almost over… >L

*Hands freshly baked, still warm, chocolate chip cookies to _Magic-Amethyst80, Liberty Hoffman, Luffy Lover, deeps, moondragon23, TheMuffinTop, DTS, CosmicAddress, Shutterfly Simmons, OneInsomniacHoosier, Jen, TheShulesLovinPsycho,_ and to you lovely people who choose to remain anonymous (I’ll give you your cookies when I find you!)

…

Did I just become a stalker?

…

Chapter 5 – in which we finally find (most of) the answers

 

**oO0Oo** _Chapter 5: Getting Acquainted_

Soon they were all gathered in Henry’s kitchen. As each person had arrived, the girl had reacted to them - apparently according to what Shawn had told her.

Gus showed up first and she went up to him, smiling shyly, and held out her fist.

Gus just stared at it, his tears threatening to reappear. Finally Henry murmured his name. Gus started slightly and glanced at the others before looking back at her in wonder. Then he swallowed and reaching out, returned the bump softly.

When Juliet walked in, the girl went right up and gave her a big hug, which Juliet returned as soon as she recovered from her surprise. She looked at Henry with raised eyebrows over the girl’s shoulder. He nodded. “Apparently Shawn told her all about each of us.” he responded, quietly amused.

The child kept her distance from Lassiter. After studying him seriously for a moment, she made a movement with her hands toward him. No one else understood it, but the girl obviously thought it was hilarious.

Henry coughed to cover a sob and went to the sink for a glass of water. Seeing her apparently making a joke at Lassiter’s expense, her carefree laughter, it had dawned on him that she was sharing a joke with Shawn. The grief from which he’d been momentarily distracted shrouded him once again.

It hadn’t been easy, but Henry and Karen had coaxed the frightened girl out of her secret room and down the stairs to the kitchen. She had constantly watched the windows, and at first, she wouldn’t leave Henry’s side. He had proceeded to make pancakes while they waited for the others to show, and eventually, she had relaxed enough to sit at the table and eat.

The new arrivals shared what, if anything, they had learned, and once everyone was up to speed, Henry told them what little they had discovered about their mysterious girl. “Her name is Maggie. And that’s about all we’ve been able to get out of her.” He gestured to the legal pad on the table beside her plate that was covered with scrawled notes. “Mostly she goes on and on about how wonderful Shawn is and how he saved her when no one else could, and… of course… she’s been asking…” He paused and cleared his throat, reaching again for a drink. His water glass had become a convenient prop, useful for hiding his feelings.

Juliet finished for him. “She wants to know where he is.”

Henry nodded, not meeting anyone’s gaze.

Juliet dipped her head for a moment, gathering her thoughts. Then she went over and sat in the chair next to Maggie. Sitting sideways, she took both of Maggie’s hands in hers, and the girl, sensing the seriousness of the moment, regarded her with apprehension.

Juliet cleared her throat and looked into the girl’s eyes, her own filled with tears and spilling over. “I’m sorry, Maggie,” she said, careful to enunciate. “Shawn’s not coming back. He’s gone.”

Maggie’s eyes went wide. She stared around the room at each face, but all she saw was confirmation.

She shook her head violently, shoved her chair back with her knees, and stood, ready to bolt.

It was a good thing she did, because at that same moment, both a window behind Henry’s shoulder and Maggie’s glass of orange juice shattered. Karen, who had been sitting on Maggie’s other side, cried out in pain and slid off her chair onto the floor.

Lassiter reacted before Karen hit the ground. “GUN!” he shouted. “Get down!”

Everyone obeyed. Juliet grabbed Maggie, pulled her down, and covered her with her body. She could hear Shawn’s voice in her head. _“Protect her!”_

Lassiter, the only one still on his feet, pulled his weapon and made for the back door. Henry grabbed his pistol from the drawer and went to the window to return fire. Juliet handed Maggie to Gus and grabbed a kitchen towel to wrap around Karen’s upper arm, which was bleeding heavily.

Karen accepted the towel but protested through gritted teeth, “I’m fine. Get him.”

Juliet nodded, pulled her own weapon and followed her partner.

Henry exchanged fire with their enemy and kept him occupied long enough for the two detectives to corner him. Soon they had him restrained and back-up was arriving, thanks to Gus who had called it in from under the kitchen table.

Karen was treated and released by the EMTs. Her wound was only a graze. It could have benefited from a few stitches, but she had insisted that butterfly strips would do.

Maggie was also checked over, but other than her obvious distress over the news about Shawn, she was perfectly healthy.

Their shooter was alone. He was muscular, bald, and well-inked. He was also silent. He carried no ID - nothing other than his weapon, and no one recognized him. He was put none too gently into the back of a black and white and taken downtown.

Everyone was wondering the same thing: Was this the man who’d killed Shawn?

Everyone, that is, except Gus. He had something else on his mind. When the commotion had died down somewhat, he surprised everyone by saying quietly, “ _Now_ I know what Shawn meant when he said ‘third grade.’ I know where his notes are.”

They all stared at him with mixed emotions, and for a minute, no one moved.

They all wanted desperately to find those notes. They all wanted Shawn to explain who Maggie was, why she was in danger, why he had been killed, and who had killed him.

But at the same time, none of them wanted this particular investigation to be over. When it was over, they would have to figure out some way to go on with their lives. Without Shawn.

There would be a funeral to plan and to attend, eulogies to be written. Psych would have to be shuttered. A home would have to be cleared of his belongings and somehow reorganized with only half of their life together.

No one wanted to do any of those things. Denial and distraction were easier.

Finally Henry cleared his throat. There was no choice but to move forward, even if they were moving through molasses. “Lassiter, you and O’Hara go process our suspect. You better take Maggie with you. We don’t know if she’s still in danger, and she’ll be safest at the station. I’ll go with Gus…” He looked at Gus inquisitively.

“He hid his notes at Psych.” He shook his head. “In a place I never would have suspected.”

Henry continued. “I’ll go with Gus to Psych and retrieve Shawn’s notes, and we’ll meet you at the station.” He turned to Karen. “You should go home-”

“Henry,” she interrupted. She had allowed him to take charge for the moment, but there was no way she would be set to the side now. She was still the Chief. “I have a station to run.”

Henry only nodded tiredly. Adrenaline fading, shoulders slumped, he looked even older and more worn. “Let’s go, Gus,” he said softly and followed his son’s best friend to the Blueberry.

oO0Oo

Once at Psych, Gus went straight to Shawn’s desk chair. He tried to lift the cushion, but it was firmly attached, so he lifted the chair and flipped it over. It looked perfectly normal.

Then he went to his own. When he lifted this cushion, it came off easily. He turned it over. The screws that should have held it to the frame had been ingeniously replaced with pegs. They were sturdy enough to keep the cushion firmly in place while allowing it to be removed quickly and easily.

Shawn had also replaced the wooden bottom with a stiff piece of plastic with two parallel seams in it.   Gus huffed out a breath and shook his head. “I’ve been _sitting_ on them.” He placed a hand against the plastic between the seams and slid it away, revealing a compartment filled with papers.

He paused and looked at Henry. “This is it. All the answers will be here. That’s what Shawn would do.”

Henry gazed back at him, silently agreeing.

“It’s over,” Gus whispered.

Henry nodded stoically. “Let’s get them down to the station.”

Not stopping to read them, Gus grabbed all the papers, put them in a folder, and followed Henry back to the car.

They both knew this mystery wasn’t over _quite_ yet. Maggie - and, apparently, anyone who tried to protect her - was still in danger. Those notes would be much sought after by whoever their bad guy was. No one assumed Baldy was the mastermind behind all of this. They needed to get back to the relative safety of the station. Neither man spoke as they drove. Both were too busy watching for any possible assailants.

Once they were all safely gathered in Karen’s office, Henry asked Gus to explain how he’d figured out the location of the notes.

“Remember Angie Wockenfuss?” Gus asked.

Henry frowned for a moment, then nodded. “That was third grade?”

“Mm hmm,” Gus confirmed. Then he explained to the rest. “Angie was Shawn’s first real crush. She was a transfer that year, she was pretty, and she happened to be hearing impaired. Shawn was the only one in our class who knew any sign language so they hit it off.”

Henry added his part of the story. “The summer before, I’d had a case where the only witness was completely deaf. I learned a few signs along the way, and Shawn was fascinated so I got him some books and videos. Like everything else, he picked it up pretty quickly.”

Gus continued. “By the end of the year, he was fluent. They always left notes for each other tucked under the seat of her chair. That’s where we found these; I’ve been sitting on them.” Then he opened the folder and spread Shawn’s notes on the table for all to see and study.

Of course Shawn’s notes were a confusing mish-mash of information. There were lists of numbers, most of them crossed out. There were lists of names and places, and drawings that made no sense to anyone but Shawn. They looked through the unorganized mess for a few minutes until Maggie stepped in.

She had been sitting in a chair by the wall, staring off into space. Buzz had given her a blanket, and she sat wrapped in it with her feet up on the chair, hugging her knees, and trying to find a way to deal with what Juliet had told her.

Now she slowly approached the table and watched over their shoulders as they shuffled papers. Eventually she reached out, picked a few from different places, and set them in front of Juliet. She and Juliet exchanged glances and then both looked down at the papers. Maggie frowned and reordered them. Then she pointed at one scribbled paragraph and, holding her finger in place, she looked at Juliet expectantly.

Juliet read the paragraph. Suddenly, her eyes widened and she glanced at Maggie, who only looked at her impatiently. Juliet snatched up that paper and then the others Maggie had shown her and looked quickly back and forth between them.

Gus almost smiled as he watched her. He had seen Shawn do this same thing hundreds, if not thousands, of times. Juliet was looking at a bunch of apparently unrelated facts and making impossible connections. And she was making them quickly, just like Shawn always had.

Finally, Juliet collapsed into her chair and tossed the papers on the table. Lassiter immediately picked them up and tried to make the same connections. But he didn’t have the background he needed.

Finally Henry spoke. “Juliet? You wanna explain?”

Juliet looked up at him. Her eyes wide with utter disbelief. “I… I don’t know where to begin.”

“How about just telling us who our new friend is,” Karen suggested, glancing at Maggie.

Juliet looked up at the young girl, put an arm around her waist, and pulled her close. “She’s my sister.”

The room went perfectly silent.

It ended, as so many silences do, with a quiet cough.*

Juliet took a deep breath and continued. “Frank… This is all about Frank.” She blew it out, shaking her head. “Maggie is Frank’s daughter with a woman he met after my mother divorced him.” She glanced at Maggie and then carefully turned her head so Maggie couldn’t read her lips. “Maggie’s mother was killed about a month ago. I don’t know if she knows or not.”

Maggie put one hand on Juliet’s shoulder and touched the other to her forehead.

Juliet glanced inquisitively at Henry who confirmed sadly. “She knows.”

The detective looked up at the girl, made a fist, and drew a circle on her chest with it. _‘I’m sorry.’_

‘Thank you’ and ‘sorry’ were about the only signs Juliet knew.

Maggie nodded, her eyes bright. She went back to her blanket and curled up into herself once again.

Juliet sighed. She gazed at the girl sorrowfully for a moment before turning back to the group. “This shouldn’t come as a surprise to anyone, but Frank conned someone he shouldn’t have… He conned Glen Godwin… As in the Glen Stewart Godwin on the FBI’s most wanted list? He had no idea, of course, who he was really dealing with, but it went bad. And they found out. And they came after him… threatened his family. He tried to get Maggie and her mom safe, but he failed. I’m sure the details of what exactly happened are all here, but I haven’t found them yet.

“That was when Shawn came into the picture. Don’t ask me how he found out. I don’t _think_ Frank contacted him… He should have contacted _me_!” One of the papers crumpled in her fist as she pounded it in frustration.

“And put another family member in mortal danger?” Henry challenged gently. “Frank didn’t have the best qualities, but he wouldn’t do anything that would put you in harm’s way. Especially not after what happened to Maggie’s mom.”

She just looked at him, acknowledging the truth, but not agreeing with it. “Anyways, Frank left Maggie with Shawn. He hoped the bad guys would go after _him_. He was trying to lead them away from Maggie.” She picked up one of the sheets that contained a list of places. “He traveled all over, trying to keep them away from her. It looks like they followed him for a while, but it wasn’t long before they gave up and came back here.” She closed her eyes and swallowed. “They were looking for Maggie. Shawn made sure they found him instead.”

Henry grimaced, made a fist, and pounded the table once. Hard.

Juliet took a breath and continued. “The good news is that it’s all here.” She gestured at the papers on the table. “ _Everything_ we need to find Godwin and bring him down once and for all is right here.” She spread her hands inclusively. “Shawn made sure of it. He just didn’t get a chance to use it himself. And…” She swallowed and nodded to herself, pulling yet another sheet from the pile, this one easily recognized as a forensics report. “Ballistics will confirm everything.” The tone of her voice supplied the rest of the thought: Shawn’s death - the bullet that killed him - would ultimately be the nail in the coffin that would bury Godwin.

Upon hearing Juliet’s words, Karen took a closer look. Now that she understood what she was looking at, it all made sense. “Drugs, arms dealing, prostitution, human trafficking…” Karen nodded. “This monster’s been on the wanted list for _years_.” She shuffled through a few more notes. “It’s all here… Unbelievable.”

Gus sighed. “Not really. This is _Shawn_ we’re talking about.”

Henry stood and walked away from the table. Facing the shuttered windows, he rubbed a hand over his scalp.

Everyone knew what he was thinking: It wasn’t worth it. _All ten_ of the FBI’s most wanted served up on a platter weren’t worth it. Nothing was worth his only son’s life.

Maggie had been watching carefully. She got up, walked over, and tucked herself against his side, forcing him to put an arm around her. He looked down into her upturned, tear-streaked face for a moment until she buried it in his shirt. He kissed the top of her head.

Gus sat down in a chair against the wall and put his head in his hands again.

The others continued to read through the papers scattered on the table.

Juliet smiled softly at one of the scribbled papers, although no one noticed. “Shawn wanted her to come and live with us,” she whispered mostly to herself.

Lassiter glanced up at her curiously.

Taking that particular paper, she walked over and put a hand on Maggie’s shoulder to get her attention. She pointed at the paragraph Shawn had written and smiled at Maggie.

“I don’t know if I’ll be a very good big sister, but you’re welcome to live with me for as long as you like.”

Maggie turned to her and hugged her tightly.

Seeing Juliet’s slightly frightened expression at what she’d just offered to do, Henry reached out and rubbed her arm. “I’ll help,” he reassured her. “We all will. Raising a kid is not an easy thing to do.”

The others, even Lassiter, looked at the sisters and nodded their encouragement as well.

Just then, Buzz stuck his head in the door. “Your shooter is talking. He wants to make a deal. Says he’ll tell us everything he knows about Godwin in exchange for a reduced sentence. And he claims he’s not the one that… you know. He says Godwin went after Shawn himself.”

**oO0Oo**  
TBC…   
oO0Oo

Ooh – was that a bad place to break? Honestly, I generally try to keep chapters between 2000-3000 words. This one is over 2900 in case you were wondering. (Actually with the A/Ns it’s over 3000)

\--Glen Stewart Godwin really is on the FBI’s ten most wanted list. At least, he was when I googled it. Hopefully he’s been caught by now. Of everyone on the list, he best fit the crimes committed in this story.

*I borrowed this sentence from “Four Floors Down, Use the Stairs in Case of Emergency” by Centipede,<http://www.psychfic.com/viewstory.php?sid=52> because I thought it was absolutely brilliant. If you ever read this, Centipede, please consider it a tribute to your awesomeness.

We really just have the epilogue yet – I hope to give you all the closure you could possibly want.

Stay tuned…

 


	6. Moving On

**oO0Oo** _Chapter 6: Moving On_

And so the investigation continued. The FBI was contacted. Stakeouts and stings were organized and several arrests were made.

The day Glen Stewart Godwin was finally apprehended was a day of grim satisfaction for all of them. It was another empty victory that saw justice done but nothing more. After a lengthy trial, the monster was finally sentenced and locked away for life in a maximum security prison, along with several of his associates. It helped, but still didn’t fill the hollowness.

More than one commendation was given to various law enforcement officers. Chief Vick and her two detectives became rather famous and were even interviewed on a couple of national TV news programs - a fact Lassiter thoroughly enjoyed. Juliet just smiled at his preening, knowing that while Shawn would have teased him endlessly, he would have wanted nothing less for the head detective.

oOo

Two months later, Juliet’s home was slowly being reorganized. It was still painful, but it wasn’t quite as empty as she had feared, now that she had a little sister to dote on. There were nights she sat on the couch alone, watching Shawn’s favorite movies and crying, but there were also nights Maggie sat up with her, eating popcorn and giggling over the latest rom-com. Some of Shawn’s things had been donated to different charities, but many of them stayed, as she and Maggie gradually set up housekeeping.

oOo

The day after they had found Shawn’s notes, Henry had managed to get in touch with Maddie. She flew in immediately and stayed for over a month. She even handled many of the funeral arrangements. It seemed to help her cope with the devastating loss and so everyone allowed her to take charge. Through their tears, she helped Henry finally go through the attic and take care of those boxes about which he’d been bugging their son for so long.

Shawn’s funeral had been packed. Every officer of the SPBD who wasn’t on duty and several prominent members of the community attended, along with people who’d come from all over the country in response to Juliet’s correspondence. She’d written a personal note to every address she’d found in the rat poison box.

In true Shawn Spencer style, the reception afterward had quickly turned into a party filled with laughter as people reminisced about their various memories of him. Several new and lasting friendships were formed. A young woman from Chile made quite the connection with Woody. It was the talk of the station for months afterward.

oOo

Once he believed it was safe, Frank came to visit a few times. He was thrilled that his two girls were safe and becoming so close, but it wasn’t in him to settle down and be a real father, and no one really expected it of him.

oOo

Maggie slowly lost her shell-shocked gaze and, with the unique resiliency of a child, she eventually became the latest member of the family to attend Leland Bosseigh High School. She divided her time between school and homework, hanging out at the station, and spending time with Henry. She became quite adept at fishing and had absolutely no problem baiting a hook, although she didn’t understand why Henry found that so amusing.

The whole group continued to meet at ‘the O’Hara house,’ as it became known, once or twice a week for pizza and ASL lessons.

oOo

Psych was closed, but both Henry and Gus continued to consult with the SBPD. Gus was seriously considering taking a few classes and applying for his private detective’s license. Solving crime was in his blood now. And it was a way to stay connected to his best friend. When he was working on a case, that empty place in his soul didn’t feel quite so raw.

oOo

The quiet corner at the bottom of the hill underneath a palm tree was visited regularly. There was always a fresh pineapple on top of the modest stone marker. Someone was there at least weekly, if not daily, to keep Shawn company and tell him all about everything that was going on in Santa Barbara and in the lives of his friends.

They all wanted him to know that, while they missed him terribly and the hole he’d left would never really be filled, they were, ultimately, going to be okay.

 **oO0Oo**  
FIN   
oO0Oo

*I’d love to hear your thoughts, now that the story is complete.*

\--I apologize that Maddie wasn’t included in this story much. I’m a mom. It was hard enough to write Henry.

\--Check out my other Psych stories – while they are generally rather whump-y – they all have happy endings! :-D

 

 

oO0Oo

Death has been swallowed up in victory. “Where, O death, is your victory? Where, O death, is your sting?”   
The sting of death is sin, and the power of sin is the law.   
But thanks be to God! He gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.   
-1 Corinthians 15:54-57  



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